Dissonant
by greyrondo
Summary: Who was I kidding? A part of me--the Zack part of me-- wanted to do the right thing. Save the world. But where did that leave the rest of me?
1. Chapter 0: Cacophany

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia or its—what's the legal opposite of derivative?—works. Originative? Eh, sounds good.

'Dissonant' contains no spoilers. I do hint at certain points in the plot, but nothing world-ending (though I guess I shouldn't really talk about worlds ending, what with Chaos and everything). Just to keep things lively, I took some liberties with some people. But that's why fanfiction's so much fun, right?

Please enjoy, and tell me what you think!!

**Dissonant**

**Chapter Zero: Cacophany**

He doesn't have a name, the one we found last. Not a real one, at least.

We found him washed up like he'd been pulled in by the tide, wearing silks and gleaming gilded blue armor and embroidered linen. He was from one of the old worlds. Not that clothes are a perfect guess—Zidane disproved my theory when we found him, and Terra along with him—but they're good for a general rule.

But like before, it just took one look into his eyes and we knew exactly who he was. The Warrior of Light.

By then, we already had someone running around with a weird not-name—Onion Knight, or just 'Kid' sometimes, because he was even shorter than the aforementioned Zidane—so we decided on Hikaru. For short, because Warrior of Light is a mouthful on the best of days. And it made him sound he wasn't a person at all.

Unlike everyone else, I didn't actually want to be here. I just wanted to go home.

Some hero, right?

Who was I kidding. I was here because I wanted to be. Because a part of me—the Zack part of me—got a special kind of high from doing the right thing.

Hot water feels the same to tired muscles, whether they're victorious or failures. Whether it comes from a gold tap or a rust-spewing iron one. The cantankerous showerhead steaming my muscles to exhaustion was one of those. This whole building was definitely from my world. Dark. Soulless. Midgar.

Not Edge. Edge had been a happy place, even though I had never quite figured out how to be happy there.

Because it was happy, Edge didn't merit any representation here in the synthesized dregs of the Zero World. That's where I was now.

Greyed-out wood and threadbare carpeting, empty walls filled my life just as it had so long ago. Every building was like the next, even the one we had (maybe illegally) taken for our own.

There were only nineteen other real people in the Zero World and ten of them were out to kill me. One of them was him. The other nine were incomprehensible.

That nameless bright-haired swordsman, straight from bedtime story clichés. A rebel of some sort, with more enthusiasm than I ever had in AVALANCHE. An orphan kid too young to really know what battle meant. A darkened knight, perhaps a kindred soul if he looked less like… him. Some sort of Wind-attuned wanderer—don't ask what that even means, and a poor girl named Terra who's stuck with us.

There's also a leather-clad punk who's even more irritable than I am, along with a twelve-year old ladies' man from a world that obviously doesn't know what a pedophile is, and a stupid jock.

If I thought all that about them, who knew what they said to each other about me. I was certainly messed-up enough.


	2. Chapter 1: Terror, Wonder

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia. I ran out of ways of being creative with these a long time ago.

I admit it: I believe in using the Western localized names for certain people. My experience with Nihongo leads me to believe that 'Bartz' is acceptable, and how can I, a IX fan, pass up the significance of a girl named Terra? But I have no support for Firion/Frioniel other than Firion sounds cooler. Don't hold it against me!

*Puts down white flag*. Please read and enjoy!!

**Chapter One: Terror/Wonder**

Who was I?

Someone very, very lost in a very, very strange place.

"Hey Cloud, going out by yourself again?" Bartz said to me. I did have a place to go if I couldn't go anywhere else—we did the stupid thing and all stayed together in one place, waiting for something like a meteor to come down from the sky and kill us all in our sleep.

Like a meteor. What a comparison. I looked at him blankly. He really wasn't all that bad, comparatively.

"I don't want to put any of you guys in danger," I told him. "You guys don't know him. I'm better off by myself."

Bartz rolled his eyes. "You're almost as bad as Squall."

But he didn't press it. And for that, I was glad.

You can't tell the difference between the real people and the dolls. Lucky for me, I knew half of them, and I was fairly certain that the other half would try to kill me on sight.

The Zero World wasn't really a 'zero' world at all; it was a thoughtless smattering of all the worlds that we had all come from. Well, almost. A lot of them came from worlds where there was more wilderness than people. But in the Zero World, the only thing that was left were the cities and villages and hamlets, all jumbled into one. Maybe because it's harder to feel Gaia in a city, and this was Chaos' world, not Cosmos'.

I wanted it to rain. Rain here like it did that day back home, and take away the darkness and let the sun shine. Rain that speckled the sidewalk and steamed the streets clean as the heat burned the water off the cracked pavement. Maybe rain and sunlight in one, to make the droplets fragment and turn the air into a veil of crystals.

The crystal. That's what I was supposed to be looking for.

Supposedly he had it. Not that I believed that; if he had it, what was to stop him from doing what he wanted with it? Our world had already been torn apart, but that wasn't what he had wanted.

But at the same time, if I believed that he had the crystal, it made things considerably easier. At least then, I knew where it was.

Maybe this would be easier if I asked for help.

"Sorry," I muttered as I brushed against one of the dolls walking along the sidewalk.

"It's nothing," he responded in return without even looking at me. So I looked over my shoulder at him instead. I didn't expect him to turn around after he felt my stare on his back. But he did.

He must have come from Tidus' world. Maybe mine, if he called the Golden Saucer or Wall Market his home. The hair, the eyeliner, the subtly morbid skull on his—well, whatever he was wearing.

But he had a basilisk's eyes. Like diamonds, they were so cold I felt I would turn to stone just for meeting them.

"Don't worry. I won't tell," he said.

"What?" I demanded.

"Him, of course."

I wanted him to explain himself, but he turned away and just kept on walking. I almost ran after him. But I didn't. I just went back to the others.

That night, Bartz was gone. And Squall was even more pissed off than usual. And no one had heard from Zidane since that afternoon.


	3. Chapter 2: Weak, Power

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

So far, this doesn't really seem intense enough to merit a T rating. People swear later? That's pretty much it. Please enjoy and review!! This fic's a little on the experimental side for me, so I could use the feedback!

**Chapter Two: Weak/Power**

Who was I?

Someone who had a few words to say, if I ever thought to say them.

Squall was too intense even for me right now. He wouldn't say a word, just sat and stormed silently in the main room downstairs. Except for Hikaru, who insisted on resolving whatever was bothering Squall—and I was sure that Hikaru was only doing it to keep peace—everyone had found a way to disappear.

I decided to do the same. I went out back, where there was a dirt yard. Then I jumped the fence to the narrow alleyway behind it.

There was something back there. I didn't know what it was, but it was purple and feral and it looked entirely capable of mauling me if it felt like it. But…

It was crying.

And its voice was suspiciously high. So I tested it by coming closer, first one foot and then another, until I was next to it. It hadn't lunged for my neck by then, so I sat down beside it.

"Terra?" I guessed.

And I had guessed right. The beast nodded, and suddenly, there was a blond girl sitting next to me in the dirty alleyway instead.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "Squall was just so upset by something, and it made me upset too, and I just… well, did this."

"Um, do you do this often?"

"I do," Terra replied. "I'm half-Esper, so it happens sometimes. But I can't control it, and I'm afraid that one day it'll happen at the wrong time and—"

She stopped suddenly. "I apologize. I shouldn't be bothering you with this, really."

And Terra looked up at me then, and began to stand up. I did something I didn't plan. I reached up and caught her arm, and gently pulled her back down. "No point in going back there yet. What do you mean, you can't control it? I didn't mean it like that," I said immediately.

"It's just that I kind of know where you're coming from," I explained.

"You don't have to help me if you don't want to," she said quietly. "I don't even know how to help me."

But I did want to. Even though I was the last person who should be doing that.

I looked up at the night sky. "Hey, are those stars yours, by the way? They're not mine, and they've got to be someone's."

She smiled. "Yeah. They remind me of home, of what I have to do. Looking at them helps sometimes when I think I'm about to…" her voice faded.

"I knew someone who used to come out and look at the stars at night, all the time. If I were Zidane, I'd say you remind me of her, but you're both different people. Except that you're both strong."

And then I knew. "Just think about the stars, and about your home. Your power, it's something that you can use, but you have to trust it to do the right thing and not take over. It'll take practice, but I think you'll be happy."

She smiled. "Thanks."

We didn't even look at each other for the rest of the time we stayed out there, but when she stood up, she said, "It's okay for you to be happy too, you know."

I stayed outside long after she went in for the night.

Who was I?

Someone meaningful. To someone. To Terra.

It felt good. Being meaningful.


	4. Chapter 3: Hating, Help

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

What a wonderful character, Cecil... anyways. Here's where I decided a little AU would be nice. So to prevent confusion, let me state that in this story, FFI Garland and FFIX Garland are the same individual ( and in case you're wondering, he has the appearance of FFI Garland, because he looks better that way). And with that, please enjoy and review!

**Chapter Three: Hating/Help**

Who was I?

Ambivalent. At best.

There was a gentle wind that day, when I woke up. I couldn't remember sleeping that well since I'd come here to the Zero World, and I was in something that might have been an obviously good mood. I think I freaked out Cecil.

But he was the only one awake. The sun was just beginning to rise.

"Cloud, I know it's not safe to go anywhere by myself, but I have a feeling about something and I need to go after it now," he told me.

"I could come with," I volunteered hesitantly.

But he shook his head. "Zidane… didn't come back last night. And everyone else is so exhausted, I couldn't bear to wake them. I'm going looking for him, but I'd like you to stay here, if you don't mind, and if he comes back…"

I nodded. "Don't worry. Be more careful than Bartz," I said. He smiled, but it was only half-hearted.

"I will be. I promise," Cecil said, and then turned and left.

Time passed. I didn't know how long. But there was a knock at the door and I opened it with one hand, my sword in the other. And I looked out, since the person who had knocked had already retreated to the bottom of the steps.

"Hey Zidane, next time leave a note," I said when I saw his familiar dandelion-yellow head. Which reminded me that it had been a long time since I had seen a flower of any kind.

Then I saw him.

At first, all I saw was silver hair. Silver hair and slick leather boots. But…

It wasn't him. Too much sickly-white skin.

The fact that I first thought I saw Sephiroth, lying there broken against the wall with Zidane hunched over him, trying to hide him almost, only delayed my brain. For a minute, it froze me in place. Then I figured out what was going on, and I decided that the proper reaction was to freak anyways.

No, not freak. That was Tidus's job. Squall's job. Not mine.

"Zidane, is that who I think it is?" I said very, very quietly. I'd heard his name before. It was important for all of us to know their names. Maybe if I kept my voice down, I could keep down the confusion. Maybe, too, a bit of the anger.

I didn't say immediately that I recognized him too. He was the one I had seen in the street, the one that had smirked and indirectly mentioned Sephiroth.

"What's he doing here?" I said a little louder. I looked closer, and saw that those diamond eyes were closed. And that he was breathing steadily, slowly.

"He's going to be staying with us from now on. Come on, help me move him, he's like two feet taller than me and he weighs more than you'd think," Zidane said casually.

Hell no.

"Zidane, are you crazy?" I demanded.

He looked straight up at me. Damn that kid. "Cloud, he's my brother."

"No shit," I told him. "In case you forgot, I've got myself a 'family' too. But that doesn't mean anything."

"All right," Zidane told me, and then he stood up. Wasn't expecting that. "We know about you, Cloud. We know all about you. Well, guess what, Kuja doesn't want to play god like Sephiroth—he just wants to live past twenty-_five._ I'd say that's a pretty modest goal, right?"

But he wasn't done. "To him, fighting's the way out. It's the only thing he's known, war and bloodshed and death, no matter what he tried otherwise. Comes with being an Angel of Death for some half-dead shell of a planet, you know. We're just like you, Cloud, except that we weren't even _alive_ before some scientist thought it would be cool to play soldiers. How would you like to fight alongside your creator, your destroyer, Cloud?"

"Because that's what Kuja was doing. And he couldn't take it. Today he provoked a fight between us in hopes that I'd kill him, because he couldn't bear the fact that if this fighting goes on for much longer, then Garland would get the pleasure of watching his 'failure' finally die, choking on his own poisoned DNA. So are you going to help me move him, or what?"

I helped.


	5. Chapter 4: Clash, Promise

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia... seriously, don't look at me like that, Square Enix.

I seem to be getting a lot of comments along the lines of me apparently not liking Squall too much. I actually really like him--he's my second favorite in Dissidia to Kuja-- but he kind of has to come off like he does right now, for his part in the ending to work out. Please enjoy and review!!

**Chapter Four: Clash/Promise**

Who was I?

Someone stuck in the middle. It wasn't really my cup of coffee.

Cecil had returned with Bartz. And Bartz didn't hold a grudge. Which was surprising, considering that his sudden disappearance was purely Kuja's doing. Some people, though, needed less of a reason.

"I want him out of here, Zidane!!" Squall roared like the lion that was his namesake. "Get him out!"

"Over my dead body," Zidane seethed, immediately dropping into a stance with his fists up.

Any other argument, I would have broken them up. But I didn't even move. So it was Terra who stepped in the middle. "Excuse me! What do you both think you're doing?" she demanded, her arms crossed over her chest as her glare traded between the both of them.

"You can't sense that thing here?" Squall practically spat.

Terra's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I beg pardon?"

"Zidane went and brought his brother here!" Squall told her. Terra's eyes went wide, but her voice stayed calm.

"Well. I'm going to be the civil one and await Zidane's surely logical explanation, but apparently you had something different in mind. Zidane, what is your logical explanation, by the way?"

She had turned on Zidane now that Squall was chastised, but it was obvious who she sided with by the look in her eyes.

And then somehow, the pure intensity of the clash over Kuja summoned everyone else into the room. Now with so much tension, the room was more than just stuffy. It was downright choking with conflict.

Who said that the heroes of Cosmos wanted nothing but peace?

"What's going on, Zidane?" Bartz said, immediately leaping to Zidane's side. "Why are you both fighting? There's no reason to do this. Right, Zidane?"

I was about to find out where the factions inside our group had drawn their lines, I could tell. Maybe. Zidane had made friends with everyone, whether they had liked it or not, but I was going to see which liked him more than they hated Chaos. I didn't think there would be too many takers.

"Stop," Hikaru ordered. "Right now. Squall, put down your gunblade. Zidane, relax before you explode into a ball of pink fluff."

That made everyone else except Squall laugh, or at least smile. But Squall didn't even move his weapon.

"You're not the boss of me, Hikaru. Why don't you ask Zidane what's going on before you start testing your authority?"

Hikaru was silent, and Squall scowled as he took a step back. He sighed heavily, and flopped down on the couch behind him, gunblade leaning against the arm on the floor. "Start talking, Zidane," he growled. "Why don't you tell all of us why Kuja's here."

Squall certainly knew how to start a commotion if he really wanted to.

"Hey, give me a second," Zidane shouted over everyone else, and as the roar lulled, he cleared his throat. "Thanks."

"Squall's right," Zidane said then. "I've got Kuja upstairs in my room; didn't know where else to put him. He's sleeping right now. Cloud helped me carry him up there."

Thanks a bunch, Zidane.

"And he's here because he's dying. Kuja isn't going to make it much longer. That's why he took the crystal in the first place, because he wanted to change his fate."

"I know, that's not really going to win any votes from you guys. Hikaru, remember when I said our worlds were connected? Garland's that connection."

When had he said that?

Oh, that's right. I didn't talk to anyone. I wouldn't have known.

"And Kuja would sooner kill himself than fight on Garland's side," Zidane said. "So chill out, Squall."

"I'm afraid Squall isn't the only one who has a complaint against Kuja being here," Hikaru told Zidane blankly. "I don't think the rest of us are happy to learn that one of Chaos' spawn has taken up inside our quarters."

"'Chaos' spawn'?! That's my brother you're talking about!!" Zidane objected. "And I might have done the same thing he did, if I'd been born first. So don't even go there."

"Wait, are you saying he wants to help us?" Cecil intervened before anyone else could get a word in.

"If it means sticking it to Garland," Zidane told him. "Come on. There's ten of us. We can handle him if he… does anything. I'll be the first, trust me. Just trust him too."

"There are nine people here who might not be willing to take that chance, Zidane," Hikaru said darkly. "But that's not for me to decide. How many of you would be willing to allow this?"

Bartz raised his hand immediately. Of course. And, slowly, Cecil seconded the motion.

Zidane looked so alone right then. What could he expect from a host of Cosmos' most favored, a group of people who survived on making the gap between good and evil as wide as possible?

Who was Squall to point fingers, harboring enough hate inside of him to summon Chaos right then and there?

Chaos slept in my blood, just waiting. The fact that I could even lift my sword proved that Jenova's double-edged strength had not left me.

"We've been at this for an eternity because we cancel each other out," I said. "Cosmos, Chaos, completely equal. But we're tired of fighting, all of us. This is the final fight, and someone needs to sway the balance. Instead of one of us going over to the dark side, one of them came over here."

"Cloud," someone murmured. I didn't know who, but it might have been a voice higher than the rest. Terra's.

"Most of us who are caught up in this, we're the same, really," I continued. "Aren't we? There are forces of pure Chaos out there who want us to fail, don't get me wrong. You've fought them, we all have. But the person sleeping upstairs in that room isn't one of them.

"Something I didn't tell you guys before," I sighed, "Chaos is in my veins. The same power that poisons Sephiroth is what allows me to fight alongside you guys. I should be standing over there with him, but I made the choice to fight it. Zidane, I'm with you on this."

For better or worse, I added silently. But then Terra politely coughed.

"Me too," she added in her clear, small voice.

"And you can count my vote too," the kid contributed. He would follow Terra to the end of the world. Well, past it, anyways. We were already on the edge.

Firion and Tidus' thoughts didn't really matter after that. A majority was a majority, and they could have saved themselves if they wanted to from Squall's razing glare.

I'm surprised they didn't.

"If I can take Seymour, I can take Kuja if I have to," Tidus said, making sense to no one. And Firion simply nodded, nothing more.

"So he stays," Hikaru announced just as Squall bolted up from his seat. "Squall, I hope you accept this."

"Right," Squall told Hikaru in his face before he pushed his way out of the front door. He left a gaping silence in his wake.

"Would someone stealthier than me follow him?" Hikaru sighed uneasily. "Zidane, I'd like it if we talked. About Garland. Alone. Cloud, I'm glad you spoke."

"Up, I mean," he clarified, but everyone knew that he had said what he really meant the first time.

"I'll see that Squall doesn't get into anything he can't handle," Firion volunteered as Hikaru and Zidane disappeared into the dingy kitchen.

You could practically wrap your hand around the foggy aftermath in the air. And I didn't have a single thing to say.


	6. Chapter 5: Younger, Older

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia!!

I enjoyed writing the pretend conversation Cloud has, way, way more than I should have. Enough said. Please enjoy and review!!

**Chapter Five: Younger/Older**

Who was I?

Not who I usually was. I wasn't sure if I missed that person yet.

I was with Zidane when Kuja woke up. And I saw in those diamond eyes, as they swept the threadbare room with dismay and something like despair, the heavy gravity of what I had said earlier. We really were nothing more than our choices.

Kuja didn't say anything when he first woke up. I would have thought that maybe Zidane had brought him here without his consent—I didn't really put that past him—so I was waiting for the black magic to fly.

But they must have talked about it. How do you even approach a conversation like that?

The first thing Kuja did was cough. Not phlegm. Blood.

I don't know how that reminded me of Zack. For other people, nostalgia's a slow, happy thing like sunshine or coffee with milk and a lot of sugar.

It hit me more like a sledgehammer to the head.

"So this is what I've agreed to. Who is this, a guard assigned to me? None of you trust me?" Kuja laughed bitterly, squinting through the crack in the curtains. "Goodness, it looks terrible out there, like the world ended or something. What happened?"

"I don't see you winning over anybody anytime soon, talking like that," Zidane told him. "Kuja, this is Cloud. He carried you here when you passed out."

Did he seriously not recognize me? No, it was just more of his sardonic chatter. I could tell when our eyes met, that he knew exactly who I was. Which was good; maybe he could tell me.

Then he laid back against the pillows that Zidane must have propped for him—I certainly hadn't—and closed his eyes with nothing less than total resignation. Or maybe it was just pain.

Just pain.

"I changed my mind. I don't want to be here."

"You don't really have another option now, Kuja. Come on, where's the guy that kept the only people that mattered to me locked up, while you called me an idiot too dumb to know magic and made me go get that stupid stone for you?"

"Back with Garland, I suppose. I really would have tossed your moronic little friends in the lava, by the way. In case you ever had any doubts."

"I figured," Zidane admitted. "That's how I agreed in the first place, remember? Nice airship you sent me in to go to Oieulvert, might I add. If you take away the fact that the flight crew wasn't exactly sociable."

"Comes with being a soulless doll," Kuja replied airily.

"I don't know, you somehow manage to pull yourself together pretty good in front of company."

"I hate you with every fiber of my being."

"You're not so great yourself, Kuja. Of all the things everyone called you, I think 'sadistic bastard' and 'narcissistic sicko' tied for my favorite. Hey, don't choke on your own blood. Poetic as that may be, it's not really practical," Zidane said, pulling a handkerchief—white cloth—from his pocket.

Wierdest conversation ever. I wondered how a conversation like that between Sephiroth and myself might have sounded. It was hard to imagine Sephiroth choking half to death.

'Hey, stab anyone lately?'

'Why, yes, why do you ask?

'Oh, just curious. Gotta keep in shape, you know. I sometimes Omnislash people just to stay in practice. These things are important, in case you ever reincarnate yourself. Again.'

'I know what you mean. Hey, how's Kadaj?'

'He's dead. You used him the last time you brought yourself back to life.'

'That's right… ah, well, easy come, easy go. Mother's doing fine, by the way. She wanted me to tell you that you're welcome home anytime.'

Enough of that.

"This time when I kill him, I'm not going anywhere until I see him die," I heard Kuja say when I reentered the conversation.

But after he said that, he didn't look evil. Didn't look like he wanted to hurt anyone. He looked used. Like Kadaj.

Why was I thinking about Kadaj so much? The only words we had exchanged had been filled with hate. Hate, because we were stuck on different sides with a raging river at the bottom of a steep cliff between us.

At the end, that hadn't mattered. Sephiroth was alive and Kadaj was dead.

"What was it like, Kuja?"

"Please be more specific."

"You know what I'm talking about. Was it a party, hanging around people just like you?" Zidane said, joking around. But Kuja's reaction was anything but that.

His fingers curled into red-lacquered fists; his eyes bristled with deep fire. "They were _not_ like me!!" he seethed.

I couldn't really claim that I knew Kuja, by any means, but the person who spoke just then was not the one from a few seconds ago.

"They could all go to hell, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, I'm sure they felt the same way about you," Zidane told him.

Kuja's eyes glowered, but he didn't say another word. He just turned away and glared at the curtains until I left the room. As unobtrusive as my presence was, I could do the same job from the hallway.

But the building was old, and the walls were thin if you were quiet. So I listened.

"I'm not a child, Zidane. They all thought they were so much better than me, just because they had been steeped in their pathetic little evil lives for longer than me. And they never once let me forget it. Well, I hope they enjoy their deaths."

So Kuja was here for revenge. There wasn't just the grudge he'd carried over from his world, not anymore.

He was a dangerous person to have on our side, but now for different reasons.

I heard footsteps. Bartz's, by the sound of them. He was coming to relieve my unofficial 'shift'. And he wanted to really see who this brother of Zidane's was, for himself.

I met his eyes and nodded curtly. As I walked downstairs, I found my gaze in a distorted mirror. I couldn't look away quickly enough.


	7. Chapter 6: Reflection, Realization

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

Where did the updates go??

I got sick. To the point that I now have tons of insight into the phrase "bedridden illness". But I'm better now, which rocks. I'm sorry I didn't get to responding to everyone's reviews; thank you so much for taking time to talk with me a bit!! Please enjoy chapter six!!

**Chapter Six: Reflection/Realization**

Who was I?

Someone who hated to look at himself in the mirror.

"Hey, Zidane, does Kuja have a… personality problem?" I asked delicately.

"Yeah, a god complex. Like the rest of them. Why?" Zidane shrugged. But that wasn't what I meant.

"No, I mean," I began, not really knowing how to phrase it. Then I just decided I wasn't really going to win any points by being polite anyways. "Does he have more than one personality? Like a… disorder?"

I'd expected a weird look. But he just laughed. "You noticed it? Yeah, he does that when he's ticked. Drops the fake accent and starts talking normally, I mean. He comes from my world, but ordinarily he talks like he's from Hikaru's or Firion's. The only way you can have a normal conversation with him is if you piss him off."

And I thought I knew people with problems. "Uh, why does he… do that?"

"I don't know. I think he does it for authority, but if he wanted that, he could just put on some pants."

"I… yeah," I agreed. Nothing else to say to that, really. "Wait. Why _does _he wear that?"

"Some questions have no answers, Cloud," Zidane said solemnly, hanging his head. "He wears the skirt to hide his tail. He hates it. For him, it's like your eyes."

What? How did Zidane know?

"Huh?" I answered. Now my voice sounded fake.

"You know, the ways your eyes glow like that. Don't Sephiroth's eyes glow like that too? You must hate it, being reminded of what they did to you every time you look at yourself."

"Zidane—"

He cleared his throat. "When I was a little boy, I ran away from the place I lived in search of the place that was home. The only clue I had was a blue light."

"Did you find it?" I asked him.

Zidane laughed. "Not. I didn't find it when I was little. I found it later, but by then I had other things going on. Unlike some people, I'll actually admit that I have a problem or two. By some people, I mean my brother, and by problem, I mean my brother. But talking about him won't make him go away."

"But I thought you—" I began.

"Not that I want him to go away," Zidane interjected. "That's really what I mean by 'problem'. Take a boy with no idea what his real family would look like and stick him in with a bunch of other orphans. Take a boy who had never so much as even seen anyone else with a tail, and stick him in a huge city that'll make him only more desperate to find someone who matches," he said, shaking his head.

"Take a boy like that and just try making him a hero," Zidane continued before I could find the words that would possibly appropriately respond. "Works, doesn't it? All he needs to do is fall in love with the princess and subvert his need to be accepted by a desire to save the world that adopted him."

"You don't have to think about it that way," I told him. But I don't think he heard me.

"Works until that heroic boy remembers that thing he's been missing all this time: his family. And guess where family shows up? The other side. Yeah. Talk about fate pulling a fast one. And it didn't matter that I thought he was a narcissist with megalomaniac tendencies; he was my older brother. After an entire lifetime of searching for that blue light, I found it reflecting in Kuja's eyes. I wasn't going to let my only family slip away from me."

"But I don't," he said, sighing, "think I have a choice."

I didn't know what I was going to say. I didn't end up saying anything.


	8. Chapter 7: Finally, Never Again

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia. Really, I don't.

I'm sure everyone was waiting for Sephiroth to appear (maybe). And for the most part, you'll have to wait a little bit longer, but here's an appetizer for now. Please read and enjoy!

**Chapter Seven: Finally/Never Again**

Who was I?

A coward.

Today was the first day I consciously chose to not go out alone. Looking back, that was the smartest decision I could have made.

I had someone to carry me back, at least. Someone to keep track of me on the way home and make sure I didn't kill myself somewhere on the way.

Spending endless nights thinking about how it would go, I didn't account for myself very well.

"Cecil," I breathed, standing there at the corner half-hidden in the mass of countless people. We were in the center of town, so neither of us stood out, dressed so differently as we were.

"What?"

"I want to go back. Now. If that's okay."

We did. He didn't ask questions. Didn't have to, really. But it was nice of him anyways.

Something inside me wanted to sleep. Shut my eyes and sleep forever. Maybe even die.

He was alive, and I had seen him. I had seen him, and he had seen me. But he hadn't even given me a batted eye of recognition, nothing more to identify the damned link between us than if we were total strangers.

It was dark in the room that I'd taken for my own. It had been light out, a dismal sun soaked in grey dye, when I had opened the door and sat down. Instead of hitting the lights, I let it stay in twilight.

And I didn't have any intention of moving. Sooner or later, I would get hungry, and maybe if I was feeling ambitious I would do something about it. Maybe.

But for now, I took off everything metal and lay down sideways, the pillow crushing my spiky hair to one cheek. If nothing else, I always had sleep.

I closed my eyes. Someone was moving around downstairs. Someone was as depressed as me, too depressed to go out searching for those glimmers of light tucked away in this dead world.

And now I couldn't sleep. So I went downstairs, too much of a coward to even face my nightmares.

"So is he worth anything?" Squall asked. Said the words I once would have thought. It had always been like that, now that I think about it. I got the feeling that we could have been friends, if I opened my mouth once in a while.

Or at least partners in pessimism. Misery loves company.

"You know that, uh, pink thing I do?" Zidane told him, trying to keep the glare from his eyes.

By now, we knew why Squall was so upset that he had to share a roof with Kuja. He was still pissed about the fact that Kuja had wanted to use him to bait Zidane. I don't know if it was the fact that he was considered for bait, or because Kuja believed that Squall was friendly enough with Zidane to merit being bait. Or maybe it was something else.

For whatever reason, Squall hated Kuja to the bone. But he couldn't do a thing about it, after Hikaru put his foot down, so he had to resort to being spiteful.

"First time he did that, he took out a planet," Zidane informed him casually.

There was a low whistle. Tidus had walked in just in time for the exciting part of the conversation.

"Damn," he added. "Does he turn pink too?" Tidus sniggered. Jackass.

"No," Zidane replied. "Red. Like blood. Like the spirit of our Gaia."

So his Gaia's spirit was red. An angry color. For an angry world. Everyone was listening after that. The spirit of Gaia was the one thing we were all familiar with, in one form or another, whatever color it took.

And then, all of a sudden, I realized that I knew next to nothing about most of the people here—all of them, people who had put their lives in my hands. I thought about how much I knew about Zidane, and how much everyone knew about me. Except for that monkey-tailed lost cause, the only times I ever said a word were to sulk or talk about Sephiroth.

So was it their stories that weren't as personal, or was it just me? Was I the only one who felt the need to talk, like I was here for some sort of therapy?

Maybe I was, for all I knew. Then why wasn't I doing any listening?

Tifa, always telling me to let people in.

Kadaj, dying in my arms as I felt something strange that I had only started to understand when I found Zidane huddled over Kuja a few hours ago.

And even though Tidus had been laughing, like the idiot he always was, there was something sad in his eyes, something dark that said, listen to my story.


	9. Chapter 8: Not, Something

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia. Otherwise... some people would have more Amano beads on their costumes (long story).

It's awkward to write a Cloud that jokes around a little bit. Please tell me how it sounds? And I don't know if anyone's read the translations of the character-specific battle quotes, but some of them are pretty... entertaining and/or awkward for everyone involved. But reading them gives a really good impression of inter-character dynamics between EVERYONE since some of that can be difficult to piece together with so many characters in so little screen time. They also reveal a lot of the characterization changes that happened from the canon series to Dissidia. Some characters are substantially different from their FF-game selves due to their new circles of interactions, I think (like Kuja and his 'I'm not a kid!' Hisoka Kurosaki complex).

Rant=over. Please enjoy and review!!

**Chapter Eight: Not/Something**

Who was I?

A good listener. Which was new to me, but it was a change I liked.

"What do you do when you add up the numbers and figure out you're not real?"

Tidus had said it to the empty air. Was he going crazy? There was no one else here in the room, and it's not like he was trying to talk to me.

Crawl into a psychological hole and die, would have been my response. From personal experience. But instead I asked, "What happened to you?"

He blinked. I'd spoken to him, and now the world was going to end. Forget this mess with the crystals and Cosmos and Chaos, the apocalypse was imminent.

I really shouldn't joke about things like that. "I mean," I clarified, "most of us aren't exactly here because random acts of kindness just weren't doing it for us."

Tidus laughed, and then he said, "Jecht is my old man."

What?

"With Kuja hanging around, I got to thinking. Thinking a lot. I know you call me 'that stupid jock' behind my back," he added.

I felt the need to make some sort of excuse for myself. "I—"

But he just continued. "I like to think of my not-life in two parts. Zanarkand, my happy little paradise, and after Zanarkand. In the first part of my life that didn't really happen, I was a star blitzball player. Zanarkand Abes. But I could never be as good as my old man. I… I wish I'd never found out. That I was dead, the whole time. After Zanarkand."

"What do you mean?"

Tidus sighed. "I'm like a runaway summon. My people died because someone needed our spirits to fight Sin. I came back centuries later, and I didn't know I wasn't real. And I helped this girl, this summoner, try to save the world. My old man had tried to do the same thing before me. I didn't know that."

"But you saved the world all the same," I told him.

"Yeah. Hey, Squall's back. Doesn't look too happy," Tidus said, nodding in the direction of the front-facing window. "I don't know. I gave up on talking to him a while ago. Some people are hopeless."

I sighed. "I'll talk to him."

"Braver than I am," Tidus called after me as I shut the door behind me.

"It's really pathetic for me to go on hating him, isn't it?" Squall said to me as he sank onto the doorstep, hunched over himself and gunblade laying forgotten at his side. It wasn't hard to figure out who he was talking about.

"Why do you hate him?" I asked, careful to be nonchalant.

"Because he's a narcissistic creeper—" Squall said, but then sighed. He looked at me, and then down at the pavement.

"This is stupid. I hate him because he didn't use me. To bait Zidane. Because he knew I was alone and rubbed it in my face that maybe Zidane wouldn't bother to rescue me. One look at me, and he saw through my game like it was nothing."

"Looking at you is kind of like looking in the mirror for him," we both heard Zidane's voice say. He was hanging halfway out the first floor window on the other side. How long had he been there?

"So don't feel bad. You messed with him as much as he messed with you," Zidane told Squall. "You messed with me, too, if you want to know the truth. I didn't get you—the fact that I didn't have a real family made me feel alone all my life, until I met my friends back on my world. And here, there's a whole bunch of people waiting to help you, and you didn't take the opportunity. I didn't get it."

"The only family you've got is him, isn't that right?" Squall replied.

Zidane shook his head. "You guys are all my family. Doesn't matter where you came from, or that your blood's not the same as mine. Heck, I'd consider that a bonus."

And then we saw it. Squall smiled.

I spoke. "I'm sorry for keeping you guys out. I should have learned from my world. We don't have the power to go it alone. Chaos needs that power because they're lonely, but we don't have to."

When was the last time I smiled? A while back, maybe. Had I smiled? I didn't know. Must not have, then.

"Some things you have to do by yourself, though," Zidane said, suddenly serious. "Just don't make it a habit," he added, and then laughed. One of his fake laughs. Which meant there was something on his mind.

I wondered if maybe I was the only one who knew exactly what it was.


	10. Chapter 9: Talk, Listen

Disclaimer: I don't own any rights whatsoever to Dissidia, even though I'm sure I have complained substantially about neurotic, unimportant details in the game.

This one's really short. But when you think about the two main characters in this chapter, anything longer would be quite unrealistic at first. There would be a lot of those awkward silences that Cloud's kind of fond of...

**Chapter Nine: Talk/Listen**

Who was I?

Not willing to let go of my grudge against Chaos. But willing to weaken my grasp, at least.

"Cloud, isn't it," I heard someone say graciously. It was Kuja. Lingering mistrust holed up in my eyes as I looked up.

According to Squall, I shouldn't listen to a single word that came out of Kuja's mouth. But I couldn't help it. I'm not saying his voice was seductive, nothing like that. It just wanted to be listened to, and I didn't really want to look like I involved myself in Squall and Zidane's silent war, even if it was simmering down.

So I tried for natural. Which ended up sounding as natural as getting my limbs broken.

"Yeah. I know who you are," I told him, slipping to all-new lows of communicative dysfunction. But I guess, going off my track record, he should have been pleased that I'd responded at all.

That wasn't quite true. I couldn't say that I didn't talk anymore.

"Of course you do," Kuja said, with a small laugh. "I'm the demon spawn that Zidane has unwittingly dragged into your headquarters, where I busy myself poisoning the very air you breathe and plotting to smother you all in your sleep with your own pillows."

"So long as you're honest about it," I said, and then cracked a smile. Not one of those sad ones I was so fond of making. Of all the people, it was Kuja who'd seen my first real smile since I 'left' Edge. "But then why bother with the poison?"

"For the few of you that still believe you can breathe the same air I do."

"Squall?" I said immediately.

"Mm," he said in uncommitted confirmation. He looked outside the grungy window, and I wondered if he was really that interested in what was going outside. Somehow, I doubted it.

"He's getting over it. But to tell the truth, you did press a few of his buttons."

"It's what I do," Kuja sighed. "And aren't I wonderful at it?"

I didn't know how Zidane could talk to him.

There was a sharp knock at the door, a hurried one. The Kid burst in without even waiting for me to open the door for him.

"Terra," he gasped, and disappeared down the hall.


	11. Chapter 10: Puppet, Person

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

Sorry for leaving everyone with that cliffhanger (although I don't think it was extreme enough to merit a 'cliff'hanger, as opposed to… maybe an anthill-hanger). Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you all enjoy chapter ten!

**Chapter Ten: Puppet/Person**

Who was I?

An outsider who didn't know for sure if there was anyone that could call themselves an 'insider'.

Terra was fine. Or fine enough. Hopefully.

Even though I had left our conversation hanging in the air, Kuja inexplicably made it downstairs before I did. He must have teleported or something adequately mage-appropriate. But what was he doing?

What could he do?

"I did it," she whispered when she saw me. She smiled, and I knew exactly what she meant. I felt proud of her.

But she was very badly hurt. She was bleeding more than she was breathing.

"Move," Kuja ordered from behind all of us. So shocked by the sight of Terra hurt, we didn't say a word in objection. She was our only true mage. If she was injured, there was no one to help her.

Except for him.

I watched him take her in with his eyes, with his hands flighty like moths on her cheeks. "Shh," he said, even though the only sight of her fear was in her eyes. "Terra," he said, but choked over the name.

"Terra," he repeated, more for his own sake, "please relax. If you don't, your magic will try to keep mine out. I can break it, but it will hurt you even more. So…"

She looked up at him, and I saw something in her eyes that was part resolution and part something familiar. Terra looked at him like he was someone else, before closing her eyes entirely.

It reminded me.

Aerith.

She always looked at me like I was something that might have been Zack. She was even the first one who called it when I started telling Zack's story instead of mine. What did I do for her? Everything. Except for when it mattered.

"Are you all right?" Kuja whispered to her. Terra's eyes fluttered open.

When it mattered, I couldn't even come close. But when it came to Aerith—I was always the second choice.

I watched his sad smile. "Of course you're all right."

She didn't mean it like that, it was just the way things had worked out. There was plenty I could do for her, but there was nothing really she could do for me. Help me, yes.

Love me, never.

Why was I angry at Sephiroth?

Not because he'd killed her. Aerith. No, it was because I'd had the chance for a normal life—didn't matter that I was a SOLDIER. As much as I hated my rank, up until that awful turning point, I could always get up and walk away. I wasn't like Zack or the others. Prestige was a prison.

I had the chance to be oblivious to all of this, to just go home to Nibelheim and settle down with someone nice, someone like Tifa, and he'd taken it away.


	12. Chapter 11: Rescue, Abandon

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

I just realized that I've been writing about sunlight a lot (not so much in here, but in another fic I'm working on in conjunction with this one). Must be because it's winter! I'm not used to this all this cold...

Please read and enjoy!

**Chapter Eleven: Rescue/Abandon**

That day the sun came out from the clouds entirely. No one said it, but everyone felt a little different that afternoon as Terra rested upstairs. Squall wasn't as grumpy. For the first time, Kuja went unguarded. So far, everyone was still alive.

I went outside, to find that someone else was already soaking up the unplanned rays.

"Hey, Zidane," I said, sitting down on the step where he had stretched out.

"Hey yourself," he said back. "What's up with you? You don't look so hot. Then again, it might just be that none of us have seen the sun in forever."

I found myself shaking my head. "No, I just… Terra reminded me of some people back home."

Zidane nodded. "I know what you mean. Gorgeous, isn't she?"

I coughed. "Well, yes, but that wasn't exactly what I meant."

"Just kidding. She's strong. You meet women like that when you try to save the world. Women like that," he smiled and sighed, "they don't just come along for the ride, they save your life. And then you fall in love with them."

"You're talking from personal experience, aren't you."

Zidane looked up. "She was a princess, and I kidnapped her. Because Kuja had convinced her mother to go to war, and there were people who wanted to help that princess. Her name is Garnet til Alexandros the 17th. But called her by her nickname, even after she became Queen of Alexandria. I loved her so much," he admitted.

And then there was something of a sparkle that caught in his eyes. It took me a moment to realize it was a tear. "And I still left her behind."

"What? What are you talking about?" I wanted to know.

Zidane grimaced, biting back the glisten in his eyes. "Damn. Sorry," he apologized. I simply shook my head, and he somehow knew what I meant.

"It was for him. Him, of all people, dammit," Zidane said, his voice tight and jagged. "I could have had her and I chose him. But he was going to die. I couldn't let him die alone."

He shook his head. "It's done now. Don't listen to me."

"Tifa," I said. "That was her name. She grew up with me in Nibelheim. Before it burned. That's when it all started, with Sephiroth," I explained. "Not as intense as blowing up a planet, but making Nibelheim burn like that… it was my home."

My story about Tifa had turned into a story about Sephiroth.

"Let me start over. There was this other girl, Aerith. She was my best friend's girl, I guess. The best friend that I thought I was for a while," I elaborated. "Long story. She was an Ancient, so she was the one who could save the world. Not me. But then she died. And then sometime after that, my head got into a bad place. I didn't really know who I was."

I paused.

"Tifa never abandoned me, even though there were plenty of times when she could have and no one would have blamed her for it. I was the one who abandoned her. When all was said and done and my world could breathe free again, I just turned my back and left because I thought I was, I don't know, doing her some sort of favor. I thought she would have been better off without me. I didn't really know what was going on at all. I still don't."

And then I exhaled. One long deep breath out. "But when we make it out of this, Tifa's the first person I want to see. I'm not alone, and I need to stop pretending I am. Some people are really alone. I should be glad that I'm not one of them."

"To women," Zidane said, raising an imaginary glass.

I laughed quietly. "To friends."


	13. Chapter 12: Lost, Found

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

A part of this chapter's dialogue was inspired by the last conversation between Zidane and Kuja at the end of FFIX. This chapter doesn't make me as talkative as the other ones... so I'll get right to it. Please enjoy and review!!

**Chapter Twelve: Lost/Found**

I remember when it was easy to ask who I was, easy because even if I didn't fit the answer quite right, Cosmos took care of the rest. But Cosmos, Chaos… enough of this 'us' and 'them'.

Only, one thing: where did that leave me?

I went upstairs to check in on Terra. I found Kuja sitting by her side, watching over her as she slept.

"Is she all right?" I asked, not knowing what to say when his diamond eyes shifted to me.

"Yes, she's simply resting now," Kuja answered. "There's no lasting damage," he reported, momentarily looking back to her. He sounded defeated. It didn't look like he was tired; from what Zidane had told me, the task of healing Terra would have been child's play for Kuja.

"You're taking good care of her," I said stiffly. He only nodded vaguely in response. "I, uh, heard that Terra's the name of the place that you both come from. The place that you destroyed."

And just what did I mean by that?

"I noticed," he told me, his voice delicately clipped. In other words, that conversation was now over.

I nodded, and pulled up the chair from the vanity against the wall. It was nothing more than a stool, one upholstered in ripped pink satin, and I spent a moment trying not to make myself look too comfortable on it.

"So what about you?" I asked. "You haven't seen any of them since," I hesitated, "you came here."

"What do you mean?" Kuja said, with a small laugh. It sounded forced, as if he was glad for the change in conversation but didn't know how else to express it. I couldn't tell if he was faking ignorance or just waiting for an explanation.

"I," I began, "heard what you said to Zidane. About how you got along with the others that support Chaos."

"I know."

Oh. I'm not as swift as I thought I was, I guess.

"I was angry then. Some part of me wanted you to hear. I wanted at least one of you 'blessed' by Cosmos to know what it's like to be surrounded by hate. To wake up and know that you have the world to thank that you weren't killed in your sleep by the people that you call your 'friends'. I'm so tired of being alone," he sighed heavily. "I'm not old, not like them. I don't know, perhaps they've gotten used to it. Perhaps they even like it. I'm so utterly drained of looking over my shoulder every waking moment. I want to close my eyes once in a while."

Then he stood up. There was a mirror on Terra's vanity. Not a distorted one like the one hanging in the hall, even though it was cracked in the corner and very, very old.

"Kuja—"

For a moment, he was lost in that mirror. Then he sighed very heavily.

"Sephiroth."

"What?"

"You're afraid of him."

"Yeah," I said. And I blinked. "I am."

"I must admit I stayed far away from him, as much as it was possible," Kuja said to me. "I don't think we exchanged five words. But I knew about him. Oh goodness, I knew about him. I knew about everyone. They were proud of themselves. But Sephiroth..."

"What did he tell people?" I wanted to know. And he looked at me for a long time.

"It's not important," he told me. "What he said is not important. And it shouldn't be important, not to you. You have something that you need to do, Cloud. You can't afford to think about him. Not anymore."

"What?" I demanded.

"Stop. Be stronger than Zidane. Don't think too much about the person who has what you need: that crystal. There are people like Sephiroth, and people like Garland. People like Sephiroth are strong, certainly. But their true strength lies in what they can do to your head. I know," he smiled, "I am one."

There was quiet.

"I'm not going to live through this, am I?" he mused.

"Of course you are," I said immediately.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "No. You see… if I close my eyes, then you all will have to open yours for me. You people are all alike, you know. When you look out for someone, you forget to look out for yourself. I don't deserve that," he said as he stood up.

I didn't know then to stop him. But I figured it out two seconds later.

"Cloud, where are you going?" Squall wanted to know. Demanded. But he seemed to have a feeling about what I was going to do, because as he said it, he slung his gunblade over his shoulder.

"Where's Zidane?"

He shrugged. "Where's Kuja?"

"They're both gone?" I said. Then I thought, of course. Zidane knew Kuja even better than Kuja knew himself. But that still didn't mean that I knew what was going on.

"I guess so," Squall said. "Kid'll watch Terra, won't he?"

"Onion Knight," I corrected. We didn't have any business looking down at Onion Knight because he was younger. If anything, we should have praised him for being so young and wanting to put his life on the line for something he believed in.

Then I asked. "Why?"

"Someone needs to stay behind with her. Too bad, I wish we could have a real mage with us on this one. But better injured than dead."

"What are you talking about? We do have a mage," I told him. "Kuja."

"Cloud," he said blankly, staring me in the face, "Kuja's gone. He's back with the rest of them right now. With Terra out, they've got an advantage."

"Squall, give that up," I said, walking out the door. If he wanted to bring everyone else, turning this into some huge clash, I wasn't going to wait for him.

I felt his hand wrap around my right shoulder and pull me half around. "Give 'what' up?"

"Sides. Them. Us. All of it. There's people, Squall, people that made choices different from ours. Unfortunately, those people are people we're going to fight. But don't start to think of those people as just 'the rest of them'. Give it up, all right?"

I wrenched away from him. I decided to ignore that he'd laid a hand on me like that, because I had someone more important to look out for right now.

"You think that's it, Cloud?"

I turned around. "What?"

"You think that this is still me being prejudiced against him? No. This is what I get for trusting people. For trusting him."

"He hasn't betrayed us, Squall!!"

Squall gave a jagged sigh. "Then where is he?"

"I don't know," I began. "But we don't have time for this. We've got to go. Come on, Squall."

He looked at me, something like distrust lingering in his eyes. But it wasn't distrust. It was hurt.

"Let's go," he said.


	14. Chapter 13: Angel, Death

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing Dissonant! Everyone's comments really helped me become aware of some important parts of the way I write. So for one last time... please enjoy!

**Chapter Thirteen: Angel/Death**

I don't know who I am.

On the north side of the Zero World, there were Midgar warehouses that disguised a portal into what Terra claimed was her world. But entering them, I caught a sight that would have been familiar to both me and to Kuja and Zidane.

I saw paneled metal and test-tube glass. I smelled formaldehyde and blood. And I wanted to retch.

"Why are we here, Cloud?" Squall whispered, skepticism in his voice.

"I just have a feeling."

When I saw my face reflected in the glass, I didn't flinch at the glow of my eyes. But I did see something I didn't want to. I saw Zack's face. Zack was killed in a place like this, even though he didn't die until afterwards.

People created in places like these died as soon as they were born.

"Cloud?" someone hissed. Zidane?

I backed up, and saw Zidane crouched under a desk panel. He held his finger up to his lips, and beckoned us down to where the metal railing looked out onto where the room seemed to fall away into an abyss.

"Speechless, Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth? What was he doing here?

There, at the bottom of the abyss, Kuja faced Sephiroth, his arms crossed as Sephiroth stood too close.

"It doesn't matter now, Kuja. Your powers have returned to us. It's all I care about," Sephiroth told him disdainfully.

"Of course. I am, after all, nothing more than my magic," Kuja told him very softly as Sephiroth drew even nearer. "Garland's trained you well, military dog."

"What was that?" Sephiroth snarled, drawing down on him.

"You heard me," Kuja teased.

"Let me tell you something, you little punk," Sephiroth hissed. "I had the courage to do what you couldn't. I didn't kowtow to the people who made me while scheming behind their backs. I killed them."

"So you could be free to kowtow to someone else," Kuja responded calmly. "Your mother. But more importantly, I know where they sleep. All of them. Even yours…"

I heard Squall growl under his breath. I didn't even breathe.

"The boy is useful after all," Sephiroth chuckled coldly. Even from this far away, I could see Kuja's eyes narrow. But it was only for a fraction.

"Where's my crystal, Sephiroth?" Kuja said then. What was Sephiroth doing with Kuja's crystal?

And I knew that Squall had realized that his fears had no foundation whatsoever. But then it happened. The crash of a thin, tall body against one of the glass cases that lined this abandoned laboratory.

I shifted, but Zidane caught me around the arm with his tail.

"No," Zidane hissed, his voice pained. "I know it's Sephiroth, but… not yet."

Something sank inside of me. I didn't know about Squall or Zidane, but every time I let someone try to fulfill their insane goals, they tended to die.

"Sephiroth," Kuja whispered, his voice nearly seductive. I tried to imagine me doing the same thing, sucking up to my demons because I had no other choice. I thought of myself there instead of him. I couldn't do it.

But that reaction didn't come from fear. Where had the fear gone?

"You disgust me. You don't have any convictions or goals. I wonder if you did, once. Why are you even here? Why don't you run back to Cosmos with your tail between your legs and beg her to take you in like one of her own?"

Kuja flinched.

"Do you miss it?" Sephiroth added. "The light?"

"Tell me," Kuja whispered, his voice low, "how much of your prized 'convictions' are your own?"

Sephiroth moved.

Kuja, still catching his breath, only reacted with shock.

Kuja's eyes closed, his entire body uncurled as the sheer force of Sephiroth's blow slammed him against the glass one more time. It spider-webbed, then shattered, leaving his body to fall among the glittery, deadly shards if he didn't pull himself away.

He didn't. After that blow, his eyes didn't open again. Glass cut red on his face where there hadn't been red before. But the glass didn't catch him.

"No! Kuja!!" I roared.

Sephiroth's waiting arms did. "I think Garland would prefer you to be returned to him in this state," he said to Kuja. Then he looked up.

"Cloud?" he called out to me. "Are you… hiding?"

He laughed at the question in his voice.

"No."

I stood up, and looked down on him from the ramp overlooking the sunken floor. "What are you doing here?"

"Funny that you're the one to ask that question," Sephiroth told me, taunting me. "So I simply have to ask you in return: what are _you_ doing here?"

But he didn't wait for me to answer. "Could it be… this one? You're full of surprises, aren't you, Cloud. So persistent. You keep giving me more people to take away from you."

Zidane was over the edge in a heartbeat. Squall ran, but in the other direction. To go get help.

"He's not yours to take away!" Zidane shouted out.

I jumped the stairway ledge and trusted to catch myself when I landed. But I didn't make it to the ground before the room exploded.

It didn't hit me, but the sheer power caught me mid-fall and slammed me against the wall. I slid to ground and my knees buckled underneath me.

"Stop, unless you want to throw your life away."

His sword flung itself in front of me. On the other end of those nine feet of razor edge, Sephiroth stared me down. He was injured, red blood staining his silver hair. So that Trance must not have been Zidane's.

"I'm not throwing my life away if it's for one of my friends," I told Sephiroth, biting every word. He thought it was funny. I wanted to kill him for smirking at me like that.

But I let the feeling go. I refused to let him get under my skin.

"You continue to amaze me," Sephiroth said as he shook his head.

"Get out of my way, Sephiroth."

"Make me," he said simply. "Come on, Cloud. Get up."

I stared him down even as I sat there, on the floor. "Sephiroth—"

I watched as a single red feather floated down between us.

"We're not done yet. Come back here," Kuja called out from behind him and crossed his arms. But there was something wrong. He was bleeding, and he hadn't healed himself.

He hadn't thought to heal himself.

"Kuja," Sephiroth sighed, not removing his eyes from me. "You're going to die, aren't you, if Chaos doesn't win?"

"Why yes, thank you for asking," Kuja smirked.

"You want him back, knowing that?" Sephiroth asked me, his words barbed. But I didn't know how to respond in kind, so I told the truth.

"He's worth more to me than you are." I don't know why, but that made him recoil.

"If you really care about him, Cloud," Sephiroth said slowly.

He turned around before I could even react. A thread of steel light pierced Kuja straight through him.

"Let me put him out of his misery for you."

He stepped back. I was closest.

I was suddenly in a different place. In that place, the sun was shining, but it was raining. I forgot about the ten crystals; who needed them when every droplet of rain was a crystal on its own?

The person in my arms, clothed in black leather, was still breathing, still alive. He could still be saved. But he didn't want to be. He wanted to rest. Of his own accord, he closed his eyes.

I didn't stay in my memories for very long.

"Kuja, you'd better not close your eyes again, I mean it. Don't leave me alone," Zidane pleaded, his arms weaving with mine as we both curled ourselves over him.

Zidane, alone?

Kadaj had cried. There was a tear in Kuja's eyes too, letting them glitter one last time.

"Kuja," I said, lingering over the name. "Zidane, I think he's—"

I shouldn't have forgotten about Sephiroth, even for that second. Shouldn't have let my guard down. Because of course history repeated itself. I choked red blood.

"—gone..."

And then I blacked out.


	15. Chapter 14: Harmony

Disclaimer: I don't own Dissidia.

**Chapter Fourteen: Harmony**

Who was I, again?

"Hey, I think he's coming to. Step back, don't hover. Let him breathe."

I opened my eyes.

I was surrounded by people I knew. All nine of them. But I didn't know where I was. So I took a moment to look around. No, definitely not familiar from where I was lying on the cold ground. I stood up, wandered a little to get my bearings.

My hand instinctively flew to my midsection. Nothing. And this place. Nowhere I'd seen before. Wherever I was…

"Hey," Zidane called out to me, getting my attention. "Where're you going, come back over here!"

"Where are we?" I asked him, as I stopped and looked over my shoulder. But Zidane just frowned.

I took in the eyes of each of them. Fear, but no real pain. Squall stood by himself, and Bartz and Zidane didn't even look like they really knew each other.

When people are really connected, you can tell. And I didn't feel anything. There was nothing, no recognition. Not yet, anyways.

Was it a dream? Maybe. Whatever it was, it hadn't really happened. But it had been real, and it defined me when nothing else would. If nothing else… I would remember.

"Aren't you even going to give us your name? Who are you?"

I blinked. And then I knew.

"I'm Cloud."

THE END


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